A streetlight briefly illuminated her features
By: Molly Morgan
A streetlight briefly illuminated her features. She walked, her head swinging with anticipation. The velvet coat of night surrounded her but she wasn’t afraid. She was never afraid. Her mother told her as a little girl too, “never walk alone at night. Big scary men could take you away from me.” But her mother was wrong. “Big scary men” never took her away because she had become them. She was the shadowy figure that mothers warned their daughter of. This shadowy figure was not twice their size, though, nor quadruple their strength. This figure looks like them, moves like them, was, them. The woman walked along at night waiting for the fearful glances of young girls scampering back to their homes to appear. She stalked her prey but she was not like the big cats of the jungle, no, she was the small black cat that sat on your windowsill.
The mouse turned the corner right into the palm of the feline. The young girl, the frail, creature, looked scared but relaxed at the sight of her fellow woman. She shouldn’t have. The cat pounced. Her attack starting with a simple, “Hello! I was hoping you could give me directions?” And with that, the trap had caught, “of course!” the mouse replied and off the pair walked, to a park. Where the woman was meeting her “boyfriend.” As they talked the young girl said her name was Casey. Casey, oh little Casey. The woman typed in her phone as Casey droned on. Her address, check. Her phone number, check. Her age, check. Her school, check and much more. The woman scanned her prey once again typing in her phone descriptions of the little mouse’s approximate height and weight.
When they finally arrived at the park Casey decided to sit with the woman. “Can’t be alone on nights like this,” she said. Internally, the cat wanted to say “just because I am a woman does not make me soft and delicate.” Instead, she purred out a simple “yes.” They sat for a long time, when suddenly the woman got a text. “Is that your booooyfriend?” Casey teased. “Yes actually,” the woman responded, a smirk forming. “Will you walk me to the car?” she asked. “Definitely!” Casey smiled. The two walked to the car, Casey continuing to chat the whole way.
They approached a black Tesla. Casey looked over the car excitedly asking if she could go inside. The woman said, “yes, of course.” As Casey jumped into the car she looked around puzzled. “Where is your boyfriend?” The woman feigned confusion as well. Casey didn’t seem too worried and continued to explore the vehicle. Finally, she asked the million dollar question. “Well if your boyfriend isn’t here why were you out and about so late?” The woman, the cat, the predator, smiled. “I was looking for you. Peek-a-boo mousey.” With that, the woman injected a needle into Casey’s arm and the young girl was out with little struggle, swift and clean like always.
The black Tesla drove away, the young girl in tow. The song “Never Trust a Woman,” could be heard as it drove along. Inside the woman sang, “Though women are handy around the house, they can't be trusted by man nor mouse. Never, never trust a woman you'll be sorry if you do.”